We All Have Our Vices
by TheHunter9
Summary: To avoid the penalty for her knowledge of the immortal world, Veronica - a trained lure for a coven of vampires - agrees to fill the position of the Volturi's secretary. But how is she meant to do her job while also balancing her education, drug addiction, and her sexual relationship with one of the Guard? Smut, language and other naughty things. Warnings inside.
1. Prologue: Whore

**I was so, SO tempted to call this story "The Lure," but after "The Pet" and "The War" I decided I needed to up my title game. Here be the wee little prologue to give people a taste of what this story is about.**

 _You probably thought I wouldn't get this far,  
You thought I'd end up in the back of a car.  
You probably thought that I'd never escape,  
I'd be a rat in a cage, I'd be a slave to this place…_

 **PROLOGUE**

It's pretty safe to say that today is not one of my favourite days of all time.

I shrug in response to my captor's question, my one aching shoulder twinging fiercely with the effort. I can't quite squash the hiss of pain that gusts through my teeth or the cringe that curves my spine. The blonde man - er, man-pire, I guess - looks concerned, his perfect brows knitting together. I feel a small bud of hope pop open in the pit of my chest. Concern is good – I can work with concern. If he really is a doctor like he says he is, then he should have some drugs stashed away. The medicinal kind, anyway. I sure wouldn't say no to a dose of morphine right now. I'm feeling all weird and woozy. Not to mention worried as hell. I've been gone for over twenty four hours now. The last time that happened, Anton was angry. Bite-worthy angry.

"Is your shoulder still in pain?" The man asks, his voice low. It's kind of soothing. I'm not used to people talking softly.

I go for another nonchalant shrug before thinking the better of it. "Well, yeah. Getting hit by a car tends to do that to you."

My tone is ruder than I intended, but given that I've been kidnapped once a-fucking-gain, I'm not in the nicest of moods. However, the doctor – Carlisle, or so I've been told - decides to overlook it, instead offering me a half-sympathetic, half-guilty smile. He would want to be fucking guilty, given that he's the one that hit me and all.

Still, he can't take all the credit. I was the one that went barrelling out behind his car while he was reversing. Not on purpose, though. I'm long since over that shit. Even hyped-up vampy senses couldn't have stopped him from sending me sprawling. According to that bulky vampire with the blonde girlfriend, I'm lucky that this Carlisle drives like a grandmother.

"You…uh…" I feel awkward asking, though I don't know why, given that I never really feel any shame. Maybe it's the fact that every corner of this house is just so fucking fancy that it made my teeth hurt to look at it and I doubt very much that they're accustomed to having white-trash junkie teenagers mussing up their bed linen. "You got any pills? Y'know, stuff for pain, or whatever?" I tack on the 'whatever' both to seem casual and to leave the opportunity for medical pot open. Frickin' genius, really.

Carlisle's smile doesn't dampen. "I'm afraid not. We don't really have much need for medication in this house."

I visibly deflate, sinking into my seat with a sigh. This is so fucked up. I'm away from home yet simultaneously under house arrest, my shoulder's all fucked up and I'm one hundred percent stone-cold sober. My life has reached a low that I never imagined reachable, and _that_ is truly saying something.

"How long have you known about vampires?" Carlisle asks. I have a sneaking suspicion that this little chat we're having is more about gathering intel for the incoming gestapo than any actual curiosity.

I fight a scowl, remembering that these people are the ones feeding me and I'd very much like to stay fed. "Dunno. 'Bout four years or so." I fidget in my seat, suddenly highly uncomfortable. I'm none too pleased with this whole delving-into-my-skeleton-filled-closet portion of my stay. I miss Esme and her pancakes.

"And you were with this other coven the entire time?"

I nod, only because it doesn't hurt as much as shrugging.

"And…before that?"

I feel a sudden clenching sensation low in my stomach. The ache remains as I straighten out of my slouch, trying hard to keep my much-practiced poker face in place. My heart – that fucking traitor – is the one to give me away, its pace quickening to a steady sprint as moisture slicks my palms. "Well, I don't believe that's any of your business, now is it?"

Carlisle has the decency to drop his gaze. Speaking to a frame on his office table, he apologises. "I'm sorry, it's just the more we know, the more we can help you."

The ache in my midsection turns colder. "I doubt that."

Carlisle looks like he wants to say something, his forehead all creased and his eyes all soulful and concerned. I hate it. I kind of hate it a lot. Pity isn't something I've ever wanted, not from anyone. _Particularly_ not from any high-end vampires with fancy rides and a house straight out of some vintage version of MTV. Lucky for me, Carlisle's next spiel is interrupted before it begins by a rapping on his door.

"Yes?"

The door swings open and in its place stands one of the many, _many_ vampires I've found myself surrounded by. There are absolutely millions.

"Carlisle."

Well, perhaps not _millions_ , but pretty damn close. Certainly a fuck lot more than I'm accustomed to. According to Anton a coven of four is big enough. Right now, in this house, there are nine, plus some werewolves – naturally – and a kid that is a vampire but also isn't. I didn't pay attention to the technicalities when they were explained to me. All I know is that I am in way over my head and I'd like to leave as soon as humanely possible.

"Carlisle, Alice says five minutes. Eleazar was right – there are a lot of them."

And, apparently, there are about to be a great deal many _more_ people of the undead variety for me to deal with. Jesus tapdancing Christ, what a bad time to be claustrophobic.

Some strange expression flickers across Carlisle's face. One of the offspring at the door – a lanky boy a little older than me in rather dire need of a comb – grimaces. The other – the joker's pretty blonde girlfriend – looks nothing short of livid. It's not all that intimidating, but it sure isn't encouraging, either. After a few beats of silence, the boy speaks. "We need to get ready."

Carlisle nods, rising slowly as if it takes effort. "Yes, of course. Have everyone converge in the dining room. There's…more room there." He sighs in such a way that I almost feel a smidge of pity for him. Almost. Just a smidge. Not quite. "Veronica-"

And the usual ferocious passion that flares up in hatred of my name prompts the practiced: "Veronica was my grandmother. I'm Ronnie."

"Right, of course, my apologies."

Funnily enough, of all the things he _should_ have been saying sorry for – hitting me with his car, stealing me away from my coven, holding me hostage in his fucking mini-mansion and calling the fucking vampire cops on me, no less – this is the first apology I've gotten.

Another silence falls as Carlisle and Combless stare at each other. They do that a lot. The silence makes me nervous, and I reach up and begin twiddling with my nose piercing. It's not the most attractive habit in the world, I'm aware, but God damn it, it brings me a little calm and I fucking well need a little calm right now. What kind of fucking doctor doesn't have medical marijuana on hand?! Certainly no kind of doctor I've ever come across.

God, what I wouldn't give to be curled up under my blanket watching South Park reruns on our crappy TV. I'd even put up with Jesse's haughty, judgemental glaring. Makes it feel like home, I guess.

"Ronnie, go with Edward. He'll brief you on what to do when the Volturi arrive."

So, with much reluctance and another heaving sigh, I go with Edward. The blonde girl ducks into the office before he closes the door and gestures down the hall. I turn to follow after him, suddenly _really_ fucking tired. And a little pissed. I mean, I know they're outnumbered and all, but _seriously_. When Anton finally comes for me, I shall be very sore with him indeed.

"Carlisle, I don't like her chances."

I jerk to a stop not two steps away from the door, heart beginning to thrum faster under my sternum.

"You know the Volturi have it out for us. They'll probably kill her out of sheer spite."

Another classic Carlisle sigh. "I know. But we can't not _try_ , Rosalie. There's a life at stake. She's so young."

"I know, Carlisle. Really, I do. This whole thing absolutely sucks. But we have to think of our family, too. No way the Volturi are going to let this pass!"

I tense all over. Edward, still beside me, freezes too. My heart hits out at my ribs, harder and harder.

"Come on," Edward says, indicating the stairs at the end of the hallway with a twitch of his unruly head. He sounds awkward – as if he's the one being listened in on. "We've still got some prep work to do."

vVv

"You don't have to do anything," Esme says, smoothing my hair out. I can't say I approve of all this petting, but I keep my mouth shut. If a little manhandling is what these people want in return for vouching for me against the vampire world's resident Gestapo, then so fucking be it. "Let us do the talking. They'll ask you a few questions, I imagine, so try to be…" Esme trails off, a set of flawless teeth pinching down on her lower lip.

"Tactful," Alice supplies.

In other words: keep my smart mouth shut until absolutely and completely necessary. I can dig that. I don't wanna die. At the very least, I wanna live long enough to chew Jesse out over losing me like that. Fucking prick.

I shift uncomfortably at the edge of the rock-hard sofa. Vampires don't care much for comfort. This was made excruciatingly obvious by the nifty little outfit they stuffed me into.

When I first arrived, I'd been wearing my luring clothes: a little skirt, knee-high socks, buckle-over heels and a tiny, clingy, low-slung sweater. The Cullens were appalled. Now I'm in this weird silky shirt and a pencil skirt, complete with soft pumps and _pantyhose,_ for fuck sakes. Alice scrubbed my hair out with this salon-quality shampoo and left it all soft. It's been scooped back into a tight bun, which I find highly uncomfortable, but any time I've even thought about reaching to loosen it or whip a few strands free, Alice has smacked my hand straight back into my lap.

"You have to make the right _impression_ ," she insists.

In more other words: try and look like a proper, functional human being rather than a druggie slut with too much information.

I can't say I _blame_ these vampires for wanting to switch up my regular look, but that doesn't mean I have to _like_ it one smidgen of a bit. I scowl at the pale blue nail polish on my recently clipped nails, different from my usual black or red. I disapprove. Hugely.

One of the huge, dark-skinned men shrugs closer to Edward, leaning in for a conspiritory chitchat, but no words are spoken as I watch them out of the corner of my eye. After a moment, Edward gives a harsh, tired sigh.

"Fight?" He replies, his voice dripping with something acidic. "More like beg. Grovel, actually. They'll enjoy a bit of grovelling."

"Great," the biggest vampire, Emmett, grumbles, rubbing his hands over his face in a show of frustration.

It's so odd. I've never seen vampires move like these do. At best, any vampires I've ever come across range from rigid to blindingly speedy. If anyone fought past all those layers of survival instinct we're supposed to have long enough to watch one, they'd realise that something isn't quite on point. These, the Cullens, move more like people. _Huh_ , I think, feeling grudgingly impressed. That's smart. This place is pretty isolated, but I'm sure they venture into that little town from time to time. No harm looking a little more people-ish around the actual people. I'll have to bring that little tip home.

"Two minutes," Alice mumbles. Simultaneously, every body in the room stiffens, including mine.

I've heard of the Volturi. Jesse ranted extensively about them when Anton first brought me home, all little and knowledgeable and a complete infraction of the law. Those are the words Jesse used. I remember because his vocabulary puzzled me. I'd never heard anybody talk so eloquently before. I didn't really understand what he was saying. Anton'd explained, gently, about their world and its rules – and the ones that enforced them.

They were the reason I was brought in in the first place. So, no matter how badly this entire thing might go, I can't really hate them too much. Can't say I wouldn't appreciate a little leeway on their part, though. A pinch of compassion, stirred in with a dash of mercy.

The Cullens sure aren't optimistic, though.

Carlisle and Rosalie flit into the room, foreheads scrunched up with identical worry lines. Carlisle catches my stare and smooths his expression out in an attempt to be reassuring. The fact that he ends up looking like the sad clown doesn't really help.

How they can all sit so comfortably in absolute silence is completely beyond me. I fidget and squirm, feeling awkward. They all stand in couplets, staring at the walls, waiting. Carlisle waits in front of them all, ready to bear the brunt of Aro's inevitable fury. Esme sits beside me in a similar outfit to mine, my clammy hand clasped tightly between hers, silent, waiting.

Eventually and far too soon, the jig is up.

I don't know if they hear them or smell them or whatever, but the Cullens and the six wolf-people all look up at the same time, their bodies clenching in anticipation. Squaring his shoulders in his expensive navy jacket, Carlisle moves towards the front door. Esme's hands twitch a little tighter around mine, but I can't manage to look at her face. My eyes are glued to the front door, straining to hear. The half-breed child whimpers.

Carlisle pulls the door open even though nobody knocks, revealing two dark-clad men.

"Demetri, Felix," Carlisle nods, stepping aside to let them in.

I inhale shakily. Here we go.

My stomach shrivels up tight the instant I lay eyes on them. I don't know which is which, but one of them is huge – bigger even than Emmett – and bulky to boot. His shoulders are vast under his cloak. My mouth dries up as I take in the intimidating bulge of his muscles. He's built like no one I've ever seen, and I don't doubt for a second that he could obliterate me with a single twitch of his pinkie. I thought that the red of their eyes would be comforting, something familiar, but no. As soon as this one meets my horrorstruck gaze, the blood begins to drain from my face. There's no kindness there, no human quality to his features like my boys or the Cullens. He's exactly as they described: a creature that exists to kill.

The second one is almost a relief. Almost. He's smaller than the titan, but by no means actually small. He passes six foot easily and, though quite lean, is clearly built for combat. Not that I'll be much of an opponent. He's got sandy blonde hair and immediately appears more pleasant than his companion. Or, at the very least, a smidge less bloodthirsty. He stares me down too, and as much as I'd love to sob and scramble under the sofa, I can't bring myself to move.

After Demetri and Felix, another vampire ghosts into the room. I know from Anton's detailed description of him that this is Aro.

My heart nearly stops at the sight of him.

He looks the same as he did three centuries ago, according to the picture in Carlisle's office. He doesn't bother to scan the crowd for me like the other two, just breezes casually through the door and clasps Carlisle's hands in his. Physically, he's not as fear-inducing as the others, but, somehow, I find him ten times more intimidating. Maybe it's the fact that this is the guy who'll decide whether I live or die. The others are just his henchmen – he's the one who gives the commands.

"Ah," he sighs, his voice a breathy whisper. His face is slightly pinched, and I realize with a jolt of alarm that he's unhappy - a bad start right off the bat. He pats Carlisle's hands twice before releasing them. "Ah, Carlisle. I did so hope that we would be reunited under happier circumstances, my old friend."

Carlisle's expression is equally as grim. "As did I, Aro."

Two more –both stone-faced and silent – file in the door behind Aro. A boy and a girl, my age, maybe a little older. I know from the stories that these are the Witch Twins.

They're both devastatingly pretty. The boy is tall and lean, but has strong shoulders under his uniform. His hood is pulled up over his head, but there are thick, dark bangs falling over his forehead, scattered from the wind outside. His eyes are perfect almond-shapes, with thick lashes as pretty as a girl's, but still somehow masculine. His high cheekbones, straight nose and full lips are lovely, and if I wasn't actually in dreadful mortal danger right now, I'd definitely like to spend some time gawking at him. He barely bothers to look at me. My throat dries right up as he gives me a once-over, pauses, then turns back to his master. He's not interested in me – he's just here to kill me.

His sister is just as beautiful. She tugs her hood down to reveal honey-blonde hair pulled back against her head in a military-neat bun. Her eyebrows are perfectly shaped arches. Her eyes are a little rounder than her brother's, giving her an almost innocent look, but that look is challenged by her thick black makeup. Her lips are full, too, pouty and feminine. She gives me an even shorter look than her brother, uncaring.

I don't know whether or not it's a good sign that Aro is the only one of the three leaders to come. I examine the rest as they enter, but none of the faces match the ones in Carlisle's picture. My heart sinks as more and more of them come through the door. They all wear identical masks of indifference beneath their hoods. I search their faces, trying to find something – _anything_ – to give me a bit of hope to cling to. What I find is a girl a bit older than me. I'm not really sure what it is about her that catches my attention until she pulls her hood back, revealing her hair. It's pinned back tight against her head, and I can see why – it's snow-white, clearly bleached, with several streaks of bright electric blue plaited up to make them seem smaller. She catches my impressed stare and, while no one else is looking, shoots me a quick wink.

Somehow, I find this stranger than all the practiced indifference. Is she usually so friendly to the humans they're about to kill, or…is there hope after all?

I don't have time to unscramble my brains long enough to respond, because Aro is staring at me.

I try not to jump, but my fingers twitch in Esme's grasp. She strokes her thumb over my knuckles, trying to be soothing. Aro doesn't bother himself by trying to wade through the crowd to get to me. Instead, with Felix and Demetri tight at his sides, he raises his hand and beckons me with two long, white fingers.

"Come forward, my dear."

His voice is soft and gentle, but I'm not pacified. I sit stone-still, silently begging whatever Deity is listening to allow me to melt into these absurdly uncomfortable sofa cushions. Sadly, I stay solid and visible and Aro continues to stare, his brows perked expectantly. My eyes are round, and after a couple of agonising seconds have ticked by, Esme has to stand and help to pull me to my feet.

"It's alright." She breathes in my ear as if no one else can hear her, her soft hair tickling my cheek. I stand on numb legs, like a baby deer taking its first staggering steps. Aro twitches his fingers again. Fuck. Oh absolute fucking fuck. What I wouldn't give for a hit right now. Some nice downer to calm my nerves and dull the frantic emotions. But I've got nothing. This bout of luck is so typical that I could roll my eyes, if I was in the frame of mind to do so. Of course the one time I really need something – when I'm facing _death_ of all things – I'm completely dry and nobody is willing to find my anything.

As I'm trying my best to induce some kind of placebo effect by imagining a joint burning in my cold, quivering fingers, Esme is guiding me across the floor by the hand. As soon as I realize that I'm standing right under Aro's nose, I have to choke back a whimper.

He reaches wordlessly for my hand, twined with Esme's. For a moment she hesitates, giving my fingers one last sorrowful squeeze, before Aro takes me from her and Carlisle carefully pulls her towards him. Aro's eyes brighten, and I know in the second our skin touches that my every memory is flooding into his head. I shut my eyes, shivering pathetically. It's been a long time since I've been this scared.

The idea that every single second of my shabby excuse for an existence is being probed and analysed by the man who's going to kill me is almost too much for me to bear. I feel cold all over, and for one worrying moment I think I'm going to pass out.

I wonder if he'll be the one to kill me? Probably. I mean, pecking order, and all that. Will he drink me, or will he just crank my head to the side and snap my neck and be done with it? Probably the drinking thing. Waste not want not, amirite?

As long as it's quick, I suppose I don't really care.

Aro's hands tighten around mine so sturdily that I think the bones in my hands must be creaking, grinding dust. I think I should feel something other than injustice about the fact that he's literally violating my mind. I don't like it, but on the other hand, I can't really bring myself to care. At this point, I'm just exhausted.

With a low exhale, Aro lets my hand flop weakly to my side. I can't even manage to take a step back from him. Personal space never really bothered me, and apparently it doesn't bother him. His expression is more sombre than before. He looks unsettled. With one quick glance over my ashen face, he slithers back a step, shaking his head.

"You've given me a lot to think about, young one."

None of the guard react to this, but I jolt, hardly daring to be shocked. Aro's actually going to think about this? He's really going to think things over before deciding if he wants to kill me? My heart lunges excitedly against my breastplate. As Esme takes my hand again, clasping my clammy fingers, Aro turns to Carlisle.

"It seems you were right, friend," he muses, his voice quieter than before. "She was, indeed, a lure."

Finally, the guard react. A low hum of murmusr reaches my ears, though when I examine their faces, their lips hardly seem to be moving. The hum ceases quickly when Aro holds a palm up towards them, a clear sign to shut their traps so he can think.

"Please, Aro," Carlisle implores. Aro glances into his face, creased with pleading. "She's just a child. It isn't her fault."

My mixed feelings towards Carlisle mix even further. I dart a glance between him and Aro, feeling my brows twitch together. Why, _why_ couldn't he have just let me go? Why did he have to bundle me into that stupid shiny car and take me away? Why, when I blurted out those three shocked words – " _you're a vampire_ " – couldn't he have shaken his head and told me I'd hit my head and was clearly out of my mind? Why did I have to speak at all? Why didn't I just take off, screaming for Anton at the top of my lungs? Why wasn't Anton watching me more closely? How did we all manage to fuck up so thoroughly?

Aro's sigh is laboured. Edward, behind me, takes the opportunity to throw in his two cents.

"Carlisle's right," he says, sounding as if he's swallowed ashes. I remember then that everything Aro saw in my head, Edward saw in his. I have to fight a groan. "This wasn't her doing, Aro. Find the others. Punish them, if you will – but she's innocent. Don't condemn her for a life that was forced on her."

Aro's expression is nothing short of weary. He glances from Edward to me, to Carlisle and back again. I try to force my face into the most imploring expression I can muster. I don't know if it does any good. Aro drifts back to his entourage, sighing.

"Yes…a lot to think about."

The room is silent for a moment before Aro lifts his head again. "Chelsea, dear?" He says lightly. "Jane? Come with me, please. We have much to discuss. Carlisle, Eleazar, perhaps you should come, too."

Two females break away from the tight formation of the Volturi guard: a tall woman with shiny auburn waves and beautiful catlike eyes, and the small blonde girl, one of the twins. They follow Aro out the door, with Carlisle and the dark-haired male from Tanya's visiting coven right behind them, off to decide my fate.

vVv

All things considered, the atmosphere in the Cullen house gets awkward real fast.

There's not much for the Volturi guard to do besides stand there and wait for their master to return. There's not much for any of the rest of us to do but shuffle our feet and sigh. Members of the wolf pack glower furiously at the encroaching vampires, who don't even bother to scowl back. Apparently, they're dedicated to protecting human life from vampires. The thought is almost comical. Fat lot of good they're doing now. The youngest, a boy my age, keeps frowning sadly in my direction. It's irritating. Emmett sighs restlessly and swings his huge arms back and forth. My teeth clench. Clearly my impending doom isn't all that entertaining to him.

The room is extremely crowded, and though less than a third of us are actually breathing, the air is extremely stuffy. Once again I find myself longing to be back in our building, napping carelessly on one of my comforters, not a care in the world.

God, I'd fucking kill for a cigarette.

When they're not scrutinizing me, the Volturi are eyeing up the half-breed kid, who's cowering between her mother and one of the wolf-men. I'd very much like to cower, myself. However, I can't even find the energy for that. Esme keeps patting my hand, but, at this point I think it's just to soothe herself.

I didn't expect Aro's decision-making process to take so long. After an hour has passed, even the disciplined Volturi guard are looking restless. The titan vampire rolls his head around as if his neck is aching, and the girl with the dyed hair sighs and whips out a pristine iPhone, ignoring the glares of some of her fellow guard members with a careless flick of her finger.

She tucks it into her pocket pretty freaking fast when Aro finally glides back through the door. Jane and Chelsea follow close behind, both of their faces as impassive as when they left. This does nothing to reassure me. Is a teensy hint towards my potentially bloody future too much to ask? I examine Carlisle and Eleazar's faces as thoroughly as I can when they step through, but in my state I can't decipher if they look relieved or defeated.

"Well," Aro says, his voice bright again. "That was an interesting debate."

When he meets my eyes, my heart thunders, echoing in my head until my brain is throbbing.

"Veronica," he finally says.

My inhalation is shaky, but I manage to breathe out an almost soundless "yes?"

Aro smiles at me. "If you have anything you wish to keep with you, I suggest you pack it. The fates have been kind to you, my child. As it so happens, we have a position to fill. You'll be coming with us."

 **So…er, yeah. That's it. I think I might continue this, but as a little side project, something to use as a punching bag whenever I need to kick writer's block. That is, if anyone thinks it's worth reading. If I do continue it there will be smut, violence, bloodplay, mentions of child abuse and drug and alcohol use.**


	2. Never Go Back

**You guys, my heart! I so didn't expect such a positive response so quickly. Actually, I didn't expect any response so quickly. A huge thanks as usual to Mel, TheLegitObesePanda and CeliaSingsSongs for being my first three reviewers! See, this is the shit that gets me motivated, you guys! Look at me go, whacking out chapters left and right!**

 **I can't even freaking imagine how hard I'm gonna be ripping myself off during this fic. My portrayal of the Volturi is going to be pretty much EXACTLY the fucking same as it was in TP/TW. My ideas of their backgrounds? EXACTLY the fucking same. I can't quite get my head around the fact that I'm gonna be starting from scratch with the whole character development thing, so forgive me if I appear to be jumping the gun here and there (I'll jump back as soon as I notice). I do wanna change up my generic conflict-guys though, so…we'll see…**

 _It's all gone._

 _The only world I've ever known,_

 _Sleeps beneath the waves._

 _But I'm the one who's drowning…_

I step out of my brand new shower, into my brand new bathroom, and reach for one of my brand new fluffy lilac towels to swaddle myself in. I throw a yearning glance over my shoulder, at the still-steaming shower. Fuck me, I want back in there. All I want to do is crawl back under the steaming hot water and hunker down for a while – y'know, process stuff. However, Heidi is waiting for me in my brand new living room, ready to doll me up as much as anyone can be dolled, because now it's time to meet my other new masters.

I have to bite back a whimper at the thought. I am not looking forward to this. At all.

I almost wish I'd just dunked my head in the sink instead of caving at the prospect of hot water and relaxation, because that shower managed to soothe me right out of the shocked, numb state I've been in since we left the Cullen house.

I'd been half-dead from the second Aro announced he was whisking me away. It seemed so…ridiculous. It was the kind of spontaneous decision you only really see in movies – not that I've seen too many of those. For several minutes, I actually thought he was joking. That is, until he asked another of his Guard – a girl named Renata – if she wouldn't mind packing me a bag.

Then the shock _really_ settled in. Esme led Renata and I to the room I'd been staying in, they tossed some stuff in a suitcase, reassured me that everything was going to be okay, and that was that. The Cullens and I shared some quick goodbyes. Esme kissed me on the forehead, Carlisle touched my arm and wished me luck, and Emmett threw a jovial punch at my bad shoulder (I'm still convinced this was intentional) and told me to invest in a turtleneck.

I wasn't really taking any of this in. I was pretty much just going through the motions as my brain wheeled and tried to catch up with everyone else's decisions. The only clear thought I remember having was when Aro began saying his goodbyes to Carlisle and I finally understood that we were leaving right that very second:

 _How are they going to find me if I'm not even in the country anymore?_

I couldn't even process this idea properly, as Aro started steering everyone towards the door, offhandedly instructing Felix – the titan – to carry me. At this point Eleazar stepped in and insisted on coming along to help me settle in. This was more than pretty decent of him, considering the fact that during my entire stay I only said about two words to him and I'm pretty sure the first one was "fuck." Aro seemed delighted with this idea – babbled something about "just like old times" – and that, again, was that. Eleazar even carried me, though I wasn't in the state of mind to feel much relief.

I was used to running with vampires, so this didn't reach me either. After arriving in Seattle, Aro hired out a small plane seeing as I wouldn't be able to swim through the ocean. Even this amazingly casual tossing-about of money didn't snap me out of it. I let Eleazar tow me onto the plane with Aro, Chelsea, another male vampire and the twins, while the others bickered about who was going to fill the last seat. Renata won, seeing as she had my suitcase. The others took off again, disgruntled even though they were still likely to reach Italy before us. Which they did.

Aro chattered away the entire journey, cheerfully oblivious to my lack of attention. Eleazar replied to him in my stead. I don't know what the others did. I spent my time peering blankly out the window. I vaguely recall – between the rare gaps in Aro's prattle – Jane's brother complaining that we were losing "the race."

The bit between changing planes in New York and arriving in Italy is muddled. I think I drifted in and out of sleep, because at one point a cloak was placed over me without my noticing. I don't know whose it was or who put it there, but it was gone again when we touched down a second time. Eleazar ran me all the way to Volterra, which I entirely failed to take in. Heidi was waiting for us outside the city walls. Aro told Eleazar to give me to her, and for her to take me to "the apartment" and clean me up before I met Caius and Marcus.

And here we are.

I feel so much better after my ten-minute heavy-breathing session in the shower. Slightly more sane, at least. Sane enough to feel like a complete and undeniable fucking moron.

Clearly, I lost my mind back there. I mean, I can't really blame myself given that I was being kidnapped for the _third_ time in my short and extravagant life, but I also can't imagine what kind of impression I must have given my new slave-drivers. Whimpering, weak, pathetic – at the very least. This will not do. This will not do at fucking all. The one thing I know about these kinds of affairs is that I need to establish control, right now, or they'll take advantage of my standing as the helpless pushover and I'll be paying for it for as long as they feel like keeping me around.

I towel myself dry, trying to be quick about it. I want to get this meeting over with as soon as humanely possible. I don't know squat about Caius and Marcus, but if they're anything like Aro, then I'm in for one long-ass night.

I scrub at my hair, not bothering to try and neaten it out as it will coil back into its mould of haphazard curls no matter what punishment I inflict on it. Anyway, that's Heidi's problem. Aro told her to make me presentable, so let her try.

I peer around the floor of the bathroom, but spot nothing. She must have taken my clothes after I mindlessly started stripping. Casting my eyes God-wards, I shake my head and tighten the towel over my chest, yanking the bathroom door open and striding as confidently as I can into the living room.

I didn't really take it in when we arrived. I'm grudgingly impressed now. It's big and modern, all soft greys and whites and strange shades of blue-green. The only exit is a set of sturdy-looking golden doors with a touch pad. The floor is polished white tile and there's an electric fireplace tucked into a tall stone feature. The TV is hanging above this, almost as big as the one in the Cullens' living room. There are bookshelves and tables clustered with books and ornaments and bowls of pot-pourri and weird stones. There's a huge fur rug in the centre of the room. On this is a sizeable glass coffee table littered with makeup and hair products. It's surrounded by an armchair with no arms and a giant white sofa shaped like an L. On this sofa is Heidi.

Like everything else, it's like I'm seeing her for the first time. And, honestly, seeing her is kind of a punch in the gut.

She's easily the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life. Her hair is every girl's dream – long and thick and shiny, dark mahogany and perfectly styled. Just looking at it makes me want to duck and hide my own short, light curls under a towel. Her skin is flawless and, in the dim light of the fireplace and the lamps, the colour of rich cream. I can tell even as she's sitting that she's tall. She's changed out of her Volturi uniform and into a light blue silk dress. It clings to her curves and accentuates her breasts – which are also enviably fabulous, by the way. Her lashes are long and curled and her brows are flawlessly shaped. Her eyes have this seductive lidded feature to them, and her lips are a perfect ruby pout.

I realize too late that I'm gawking like a retard. She catches my stare and smiles at me over her shoulder.

"Feeling better?" She asks.

My back stiffens and I straighten up, remembering my whole _establishing control_ plan. Drooling over vampires is not very likely to help me complete that plan, so I do my best to snap myself out of it.

"Much," I reply, my tone clipped.

She doesn't seem bothered by my attitude. "Right, well, come here and I'll get started on your makeup."

I pad across the cool tile, trying not to feel self-conscious. It's a wasted effort. She's even more breathtaking when she's two feet away, and I'm sitting here with no makeup, wet hair and nothing but a towel. Brilliant. Just excellent.

"Now then," Heidi says, reaching for me and cupping my face, trying to get a decent look at me. Her fingers are smooth and cold, and the familiar feeling makes the centre of my chest ache as if my heart is actually breaking.

 _I want to go home_.

It's the first time I've dared think the words. Though, judging by the way Heidi's amiable expression flickers and drops, I've not so much thought them as whispered them aloud. Shit.

Heidi lets her hands curl slowly into her lap. I force my eyes away, unable to look at her. My throat begins to ache as well. After a few beats of silence, Heidi's soft voice murmurs. "How old are you?"

I blink, and my lips part, but it takes me a second to answer her. When I do, it's with a thin, cracking voice. "Fifteen."

I glance up long enough to spot Heidi grimace. "Fifteen," she parrots. One silky curl falls over her shoulder as she sighs. "You're the youngest we've had in…quite a while."

I don't reply. What do I say to that? 'Sorry for lowering your quality of life, I tend to have that effect'? Not likely. To my mild alarm, she reaches for my hands.

"I'm sorry," she says, smoothing her thumbs over my knuckles just like Esme did. "You can't go home."

I stare at her in horror. Then, it's as if all the emotions that I'd managed to keep chained down in the last seventy two hours burst free all at once. I yank my hands from hers and lurch up from the sofa, tears of fury burning behind my eyes.

" _Why_?" I bark at her, clutching at the towel just for something to hold, bunching it around my chest. " _Who are you to decide that_?"

Heidi stays seated, keeps her expression neutral. She doesn't know what to say. My head is spinning. Fuck. _Fuck_! I haven't gone this long without some kind of drug for quite a while. I can feel my blood brewing, thin and weak, wondering why. One hand comes up and grabs at my throbbing frontal lobe. No. Focus. _Fucking focus_. I need to find out what's going to happen to Anton and the others. I need to fucking _help_ them!

"Are you okay?" Heidi asks, sounding anxious. I grit my teeth together. I hadn't realised I'd been stumbling. I take a second to right myself before turning on Heidi.

"My-my family, my coven – what's going to happen to them?"

Heidi stiffens and drops her gaze away. "I don't really know."

" _Yes you do_!" I lash back.

Heidi looks down and away again before gathering her resolve and meeting my frantic eyes. "Demetri will find them."

"He won't. They'll run."

"No one can outrun Demetri." Heidi's voice is firm, letting me know that this is how it is. I take as deep a breath as my lungs will allow, trying to steady myself. I asked for the truth and this is it.

"And?" I croak.

"Demetri will bring them before Aro, Caius and Marcus. They'll decide whether or not their infraction was worth…punishment."

Ice cold terror passes down my spine so forcefully that it hurts. I know _exactly_ what punishment means.

"Why?" I mouth.

"They broke the law."

"No!" I protest sinking back down onto the sofa. "No! Th-that's why they brought me in – so I could hunt for them, so they could stay under the radar!"

Heidi's face is creased with sympathy. "You're human," she replies gently. "It's against the law for any human to know about vampires."

"But they were going to change me!" I choke. "They were! When I turned eighteen, they were going to make me a vampire. They were going to uphold the law! I swear! I promise!"

I don't comprehend why my face is so hot until Heidi reaches out and sweeps a tear off my cheek. I can't even care. I retch up a sob, feeling like exactly what I wanted to avoid coming across as, but unable to help it. Heidi shushes me, dashing away my tears as they fall.

"There, now," she murmurs. "None of that. Caius won't like it if he sees you've been crying."

I delve past the overwhelming sorrow for my temper, trying to feel irked at myself and snap myself out of it. It takes longer than I care to admit, but after a while I gulp back the last of my tears and forcibly steel myself against the grief. I'm successful. I can feel the determined anger setting into my bones like armour. Sniffing one last time, I lift my chin.

"Believe it or not, I'm finding it hard to give a flying fuck what Caius likes."

My voice is reassuringly clear. Heidi's lips twitch upwards.

"You want to help your coven?"

My armour trembles. "Yes."

Heidi grins. "Then give a fuck. Do your job. Bow and scrape, if that's what it takes. I won't pretend to know what Aro's thinking, but he didn't spare you for nothing. I'm willing to bet that if you live up to his expectations, he'll be willing to listen when the time comes that you need to be heard."

I blink at this, trying my best to hold on to my strength. It's not easy. It feels like all my insides are trembling. "Okay."

Heidi's answering smile is blinding. "Okay," she echoes. She reaches for a brush and powder and holds them out as if she's wielding weapons. "Now, let's get down to business."

vVv

I hold my head high as I follow Heidi down the cold stone hallway. The sound of my heels clacking echoes all around me like a heart beating. I'm so hugely glad that I've got so much practice in heels, because these ones are merciless – Louis Vuitton's finest stilettos that squeeze my feet in all the wrong places. Still, props to me, because I haven't faltered once since Heidi and I left my new digs.

Turns out I didn't get a glimpse of the city. I must have _really_ zoned out not to notice that Heidi took me to the apartment from underground. Another thing I failed to notice was the elevator right in my own living room. It took us all the way down, past the basement, into the city's underground labyrinth of tunnels. Apparently one measly human using the castle's front door would be _way_ too much of an inconvenience for the Volturi to handle, so I, like every other past secretary, will have to brave the horrible, dank tunnels every day in order to access my new workplace. Whoop de fucking do.

Too bad some of the few things I happen to be deathly afraid of are a) the dark and b) being underground.

I'm really, really, _really_ starting to hate the Volturi.

In spite of my newfound bravado, my heart kicks it up a gear as we approach a pair of humongous double doors. This is it, no doubt.

I glance down at myself, trying to soothe the sudden bout of anxiety. Heidi gave me back the pencil skirt that Alice put me in and the clingy red sweater I arrived it, because Esme washed it and I've got nothing else. Apparently there'll be a whole wardrobe full of clothes in my size waiting for me in the morning. I await with baited breath. Not.

Heidi also managed to fix my cry-face. My eyes are rimmed with dark grey liner and shadow, my lashes slicked to their fullest. My lips have a touch of gloss to them, "to make me appear more lifelike." Not at all insulting. She also succeeded in smoothing my curls down a little. All in all, considering the trying few days I've had, I don't look bad.

The doors swing open as if by themselves, and Heidi strides through. I follow without breaking pace, keeping my chin high and my face smooth. Establish control.

I'm able to keep in-character as Heidi leads me towards a trio of thrones, in which sit a trio of high-and-mighty vampires.

Aro is in the middle, as I expected. To his right is the deadest looking creature I have ever come across in my life. He's slouched over, staring at nothing, looking like a prop that somebody tossed aside. From my distance, I think I see his eyes flicker towards me. If he does see me, clearly I'm not all that interesting, because he doesn't so much as twitch. I try not to let it perturb me. I cast a quick glance back at Aro, trying to silently communicate that he should get that guy checked out. Like, soon.

Aro is smiling at me, looking pleased. "I must say, Veronica, you are looking much better."

Fighting an almightiful cringe at the use of my full name, I decide to take the compliment and roll with it. "Thank you."

Aro seems thrilled. "Excellent work, Heidi," he enthuses. "You are dismissed."

I blink, trying to conceal my horror as Heidi bends forward slightly in a kind of bow, says thank you, shoots me an encouraging look, then turns around and _leaves_.

I clasp my hands together in front of me, my freshly-clipped nails digging into my skin. Awesome, just fantastic. This is great.

I decide to distract myself from this badly-timed abandonment by checking out the last of the three leaders. I nearly stagger backwards under the force of his glare.

I shoot a panicked glance down over myself again, trying to figure out what the fuck about me has offended him so thoroughly. It's been a _long_ time since anyone looked at me with that level of evils, and I'd be lying if I said it's not shaking me. I stare back, morbidly entranced by his evident aggravation. After a moment, Aro decides to intervene, likely for the sake of my mental health and this guy's clenched-up eyeballs.

"Veronica," he says. "There are Caius, and Marcus." He gestures to the one in need of anger management, then the one in need of a respirator. "Brothers, this is Veronica."

For lack of anything else to do, I say "hello" as confidently as I can. Just then, I notice something in the sides of my vision. Felix and Demetri pace up towards the thrones, hovering about five meters away at either side of me. Neither of them look very welcoming. Dread coils in my stomach. For one insane second, I want to bolt – kick these stupid shoes off and run for my life – but I stop myself.

 _Give a fuck. Do your job. Bow and scrape, if that's what it takes_.

I'm pretty sure they recognise the fear in my face, because Felix smirks menacingly. Abruptly, I wish I had the balls to say that the last man that looked at me that way died shrieking, sobbing, begging for his life. But I don't. I will do my job. I'll be the best fucking secretary that every secretaried. So I clench my teeth, straighten my back and turn my attention back to the thrones. Caius is still boring holes in my skin, but now he looks more affronted than murderous.

"She looks alright," he comments. Before I can react, he turns on me. "What are your qualifications?"

Oh, fucking fuck.

My tone deadpans in unison with my heart. "My what?"

Caius is severely unimpressed. I turn to Aro, sending him my best psychic vibes. _You got me into this, you asshole, fucking help me!_ But he does nothing.

"Your _qualifications_ ," Caius spits.

My first thoughts are _I can walk damn well in high heels_ , but somehow I doubt these are the kind of skills Caius is concerned with. As for anything else, I'm at nothing.

"Dear God, girl! Did you even finish school?"

He's shouting and sneering at me all in one go. He doesn't dream that the answer is no. He's glaring at me with those superior, disgusted eyes, trying to stare me down. Anyone else would feel small and ashamed by this, but I don't. I've never felt shame in my life, and the likes of him aren't going to inspire it in me. So I square my shoulders, meet him eye to eye, and say "no."

Caius chokes.

Aro finally decides to come to my rescue. "I told you, Caius, she was taken from her home to become a lure at a very young age."

Caius is thunderstruck. Again, he turns on me. "So you finished elementary school, then?"

This is a dig at my expense, and everyone here knows it. My nails dig deeper into the flesh of my hands. Temper roils in the pit of my stomach, but I can't react. This isn't home. A light swat isn't what the Volturi consider fitting punishment for a smart mouth. But I won't fold - not to this asshole. I decide not to play along.

"No," I reply lightly.

Caius gapes at me as if I've just insulted his mother, his grandmother and his every single belief in one fell swoop. "What did you bring us, Aro?" He demands, so incredulous that he's not even breathing. "Some wanton whore off the streets with barely a cell in her brain?"

Before Aro can reply or my temper can get the best of me, Caius throws his arm out as if he can barely believe he has to give the order. "Kill her!"

A single, stunned breath shudders from my throat. Felix and Demetri move.

" _Do not_."

The gravelly, ancient voice takes us all by surprise. Demetri stops with his fingers flexed around my throat. My heart hammers against my chest. My whole _running for my life_ scenario ends before it even begins _._ I can't move - I scarcely dare to _breathe_. My bulging eyes find the source of my saviour. Unbelievably, the dead vampire has straightened in his seat.

"The child has made her decision," he continues. His tone and the speed of his voice don't change. He sounds as if he's speaking from the inside of his own grave. "She will do right by us. She is willing to learn if we are willing to teach her. She will prove her worth, given time."

And he falls completely still and silent again, like a clockwork ornament set to go off at certain intervals. Felix and Demetri shoot glances between the three leaders, clearly not sure who to listen to. My pulse thrums against Demetri's fingertips, sweat beading against my hairline.

"Well," Aro says, inappropriately chipper given the fact that Demetri is a finger's flex away from crushing my trachea. "I'm glad we got that out of the way!"

To my intense relief, Felix and Demetri slither back into the shadows. I gulp in a lungful of air, my chest heaving. Caius looks completely incensed.

"You know, Caius, you are right," Aro says suddenly.

 _What?_

I tense up immediately, at a loss for what to do. No. _No_ way. I gape at him in open terror, my tough façade long-vanquished.

"Veronica does need to be educated," he muses. "So I expect you'll want to get started right away."

I'm not sure whether or not Caius or I has the most bewildered expression. His head whips around, Aro's words shocking him right out of his stewing anger.

" _What_?"

"Well, yes, it only seems fair." Aro nods along with his own train of thought, clearly pleased with himself. "You want her educated – so you can educate her!"

" _No._ " Caius snaps crossly. "Have someone else do it!"

"What's the old phrase?" Aro ponders, smiling. "Ah, yes. If you want something done right, brother, do it yourself!"

Aro clasps his hands together with a flourish while Caius is still flabbergasted.

"You're dismissed, Veronica. Go and get some rest. Return to us at seven o'clock tomorrow morning."

Caius is still spluttering and protesting as I turn around and finally allow myself to flee for my life.

vVv

I breathe hard as I stare at myself in my new work get-up. I wonder how many girls have stared into a mirror similar to this one, anxiously anticipating their first day working for the vampires. At least they must have had more of a leg up than I do.

Caius was not wrong. To say I am unqualified for this job is a vast understatement. I cannot secretary. At all. I barely attended elementary school, for Christ sakes. I was eleven when Anton and Co. took me away to be their lure. I didn't have a chance to learn any valuable life skills before life skills became irrelevant to me. The only reason I can even speak like a halfway literate adult is because the boys are all from oldie times and their vocab is literally out of this world. My penmanship is so shameful that having me put pen to paper should be considered a grievous sin. How am I supposed to organize and run the goings-on of an entire castle when I can barely read plain English?

Bile rises in my throat as fresh panic causes my palms to sweat. I'm worryingly pale as I unbutton my fancy blouse all over again so I can apply another liberal spray of deodorant. I'm unqualified – I don't need to smell on top of that.

What the ever loving fuck was Aro _thinking_? _What_ _broke_ in that guys mind for him to think that hiring me to do his paperwork was a stand up idea? Do the Volturi not value professionalism, good work ethics and functioning brainpower at _all_? Maybe not. Maybe all they want is something nice-looking to bring them their messages and answer their calls.

Self-conscious, I button my shirt back up and tuck it into my tight skirt. It's _very_ tight. Heidi had me measured down to a T. Suspicious, I turn and glance back at my rear, accented by the constricting fabric. Huh. It's looking oddly perky and round today, if I do say so myself. That can't be a coincidence. Neither can the fact that I've actually got cleavage in this abominable ruffled shirt.

That must be it. The Volturi want something pretty to look at while they play their I-Rule-The-World game. Go figure. Looks have always been the only thing I have going for me. If there's one thing I can say about little ol' me, it's that I don't have any illusions about myself. I'm not stupid enough to believe that people want me around for my trashy behaviour and disastrously loose moral code. I'm not clever or quick-witted – I can barely read and write. I'm not kind or sweet or generous or charming. I'm a bitter, sharp-tongued teenager with a bad attitude and a problem with narcotics. There are track marks on my arm from just last week. I don't have any real interests. Chess and South Park don't really count. I can't play any instruments. I don't read books or listen to music. I couldn't keep up a conversation with a regular person if you paid me.

I'm pretty. That's all.

It's why they picked me. Anton took one look at my plump pink lips and wild blonde curls and decided there was nothing better to bait his meals with. My clear, creamy skin stayed with me through adolescence. I kept my hair to my collarbones, mainly because I don't have the slightest clue about maintenance past basic shampooing. My eyes stayed the same light grey-blue, but my lashes thickened and I learned to make myself look older with liner and mascara. I have the kind of face that can pass for thirteen or twenty depending on how I do my makeup.

There's always something flattering about the attention I get from men, but whether I really enjoy it or not is ambiguous. I'm doing my job – being flirty or playfully innocent as the situation demands in order to lead strangers to their deaths. Sometimes it's hard to break character.

Nobody ever comments on things I say or do beyond my skills as a lure. It's always about the way my hair shines or how pretty my eyes are or how my body looks in my most enticing clothes.

I allow a flash of melancholy to dampen my expression for a second before I straighten up, lifting my chin and smirking at myself in the mirror. Whimpering about my life isn't going to get my boys anywhere. Sucking in a steady breath, I tuck a stray kink of hair behind my ear and smile my most convincing smile. Time to go to work.

 **I have no idea what I'm doing. None. Zilch. Not a clue. I know how it's gonna end, and I know the middle has smut, but THAT. IS.** _ **IT**_ **. I am 100% literally making this up as I go along, so if it's making fuck all sense to you guys, dooooon't worry, because it's making LESS sense to me!**

 ***cries***

 **NOTE:**

 **I got a lot of comments during TP about people really liking not hearing about Nyx's looks all the time, which always stuck with me. I noticed that in fanfics too, it's like the author's description of their characters wasn't complete without them reassuring us that yeah, they had a lot going on, but they were also smokin' hot. Yeah, it got annoying. How and ever, I decided to change shit up a little. How about a character with nothing going for them, literally nothing, BUT their looks? Huh? Huh? Yeah, thought I'd give that one a swing. Though I have to admit, the very first time I wrote about her calling herself pretty I was like "ooh, that sounds bad." But I kept it in, because persistence and shit.**


	3. Push The Button

**Sooo, college has started again and I'm TRYING to write, really I am, but I seem to have been swept up into a whirlwind of boozing and partying and frantic last-minute studying.**

 _Can I play the hunter?  
No wonder we're in chains.  
Yes I am the hunter.  
Time to feed the hunger…_

 _It's one of the local-ish dive bars, a couple of blocks from the house, where the boys are waiting for their meal. I've been here twice before under different guises. The first time I was a lost child. That was when I was twelve. I came in, asked a man to use his cell phone to call my mom, and within an hour I had him tailing me back to the building, half-drunk as he stalked me through the streets, on my way to meet my 'mom.' They'd liked the tang that the beer added to his blood. The second time, just before turning fourteen, I'd donned a school uniform. It was really nothing fancy – a small skirt and shirt and tie, patent Mary-Jane's, and a small crucifix slung around my neck; the perfect Catholic schoolgirl. I'd told them that my friend had fallen off a wall near the docks and broken her ankle. They followed me all the way back, no questions asked._

 _Tonight is a different story._

 _The thing about hunting humans is that other humans will occasionally notice. The boys know how to dispose of the bodies without them ever being found, but that still won't stop the odd missing persons report from cropping up. The last thing I need is for someone to recognise my face and report me, too. However, there are only so many bars, clubs and the like within our general area. I need to visit these places sparingly, to stay as far under the radar as I possibly can. Hunting for food is one thing. Hunting for sport is another. But hunting witnesses is a whole 'nother story altogether – an inconvenient and dodgy affair. It's exactly the kind of thing that would tip off the Volturi – the ones that hunt the hunters. Living the literal night life requires a dark kind of subtlety and the switching-up of looks when returning to the scene of the crime._

 _Tonight I'm leaning towards a more adult disguise. My hair is down, splayed around my face. My lips are dark scarlet and my eyes are lined with black. I'm wearing my tightest jeans, my highest heels, and a white lace top that cuts low over my chest. The sweet thing about places like this is the fact that nobody bothers to check I.D's. I can swan in and out as I please. As soon as I stroll through the doors, heels clacking against the grimy tile floors, I catch the distinct scent of whiskey. My stomach clenches. It's_ so _tempting. I want a drink, but in a situation like this, I need to be at my sharpest. I can't afford to be caught off-guard. I have twenty grams of pot with my name on it back home - I can wait. I mean, I'm not an_ animal _…_

 _Of course, I'm perched on a bar stool less than thirty seconds later, practically salivating._

 _I try to act confident. With the right makeup and the right attitude, I seem older than my real age, but I sure as shit don't pass for twenty one. I try my best not to fidget in my seat. The bartender – a man in his late forties with hard eyes, a thick beard and a beer belly – materializes in front of me. My heart quickens as he gives me a once-over, scrutinizing my face. I smile coolly, one eyebrow perking a little. I don't doubt that he gets plenty of under-agers, but the last thing I need is to be kicked out and have to find a new place to hunt. Not only will it waste time, but if I get thrown out on my ass I might not ever be able to come back. This place is prime – full of drunk blood for the taking. Anton will be pissed if I have to stop hunting here just because I couldn't resist the itch for alcohol._

" _What can I getcha?" The bartender asks, wiping absentmindedly at a glass._

 _I exhale, my smile morphing into something genuine. "Gin," I reply, reaching for the wad of cash in my cleavage. Just as I do, the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I stiffen. My smile becomes a smirk. I tuck the money away again._

" _On me," a new voice intercedes. I turn to find a middle-aged man in a plaid shirt looming over my shoulder. He's drunk. His eyes are bleary and his smile is wobbly, but the way his body is angled around me make his intentions crystal clear. I glance behind him, where two of his friends are hovering, swaying drunkenly._

 _Perfect._

" _Thanks," I murmur, taking the glass when it's handed to me and taking a generous swig._

vVv

So, as it happens, work isn't all that enthralling after the first four hours.

I'd reported to Aro like a good little minion, braved Caius' haughty glower and the looming presence of Felix and Demetri – all at seven o'clock in the motherfucking morning. Do you know the last time I was up at seven a.m. without having pulled an all-nighter? Fucking _never_. But up I got, only half-asleep anyway, and groomed myself into what I'd thought an acceptable secretary would look like. Aro seemed pleased, at least. Marcus ignored me and Caius gave me a harsh once-over before turning away as well. It was a relief, to say the least. I don't know much about seven-a.m. Ronnie, but something tells me that she's a lot less concerned with her wellbeing than properly-rested Ronnie.

Aro prattled and I tried to listen, _really_ I did, but my eyes kept drooping and I kept unconsciously itching at the track mark hidden beneath my blouse. Eventually, Aro summoned Renata to bring me to my new work space and fill me in on my duties and such.

To say that I was not in the mood for this is an understatement.

Still, Renata seemed nice enough, and I was still employing my Be-The-Best-Secretary-In-The-World-And-Save-My-Coven's-Stupid-Law-Breaking-Asses plan. This included being as polite and pleasant as my soul could take. Aro would know if I fucked up.

"Oh, and Veronica? I need you to be in the Library at twelve, sharp. I'll have Demetri show you where it is."

I launched a sleepy glance at Demetri, who seemed as stone-faced as ever. Wonderful. Fantastic. That was just terrific. Still, I need these people on my side, and so I just nodded politely and followed Renata out of the Throne Room.

Conversation was brief between us as I tailed her through hallways and down dodgy flights of stairs. I'd passed the desk the night before, with Heidi, but I guess Aro didn't trust me to find my way back. Still, this time I was determined to memorise my way. I tried to picture every turn we took and corridor we passed as if I had a bird's-eye view of a map. It was how I learned my routes when I was luring in a new area. More often than not, the people I targeted were dangerous – older men with one thing on their minds. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I'd snag two or three of them. This was not something I ever took lightly. If they grew restless or decided to jump the gun before we reached the nest, I'd have to make a quick escape. Getting away unscathed meant knowing my shortcuts. If I was going to find my way around this rat-maze, I was going to need to apply the same technique.

Renata led me to a huge oak desk, behind which stood tall filing cabinets and a tropical fish tank. I took a moment to boggle at it, mesmerised by all the tranquil, colourful little creatures. As soon as Renata came within five feet of them, they went into a frenzy, squirming frantically to the back of the tank. The desk was littered with staplers and pens and all the usual junk you'd expect from a secretary's space. A big, new-looking computer was plonked down just to the right of all of it, causing a fresh dose of panic to seize me round the belly.

"I don't know how to use that," I'd choked, feeling the colour trickle slowly out of my face. To my surprise, Renata grinned.

"I guarantee you've just made Santiago's day. I'll send him down to you in a while. Honestly, it's mostly there for little things. Santiago's the big computer guy around here."

I didn't know who Santiago was and why I'd made his day and so all of this meant nothing to me. It was finally beginning to sink in that I'd actually have to sit at this desk for fourteen hours out of the day and do a job that I was completely clueless about. Renata caught my shudder.

"Don't worry," she said gently. At that moment I'd vaguely recalled her reassuring me when we were packing stuff with Esme, telling me that everything was going to be fine. "Aro told me to brief you on your duties. He'll talk to you more thoroughly about them later."

So apparently I had to answer calls, sort through the emails that Santiago would send me, sort the mail if it came, direct visiting vampires if any of them happened through, and prepare and organise files for the Volturi's "missions," whatever that meant.

"Honestly, it's not all that challenging," Renata shrugged.

Well, she sure had that right.

It's half past eleven in the morning and I am unimpressed. I am yet to receive a visit from the Volturi's resident tech-savvy vampire, and so the computer remains intimidating and untouched. I've mastered the stapler, worked out the little hole-punching device, and chatted with two telemarketers. Oh, and I've named all the fish. And spent more time than I'd like to admit spinning around in my big whirly chair.

It's more than a welcome surprise when a familiar face appears at my new domain.

"How's work going?" Eleazar smiles, leaning his forearms against the large frame at the front of my desk. I eye him curiously for a moment. I'm still not used to vampires behaving so much like humans.

"Uh, okay, I guess," I reply. He notices the doubt in my voice and chuckles.

"What exactly have you been doing?"

I pause for a moment, recalling the last four dragging hours before replying in monotone: "I named all the fish."

Eleazar laughs again. "Nothing too strenuous, then."

"Hey, there are triplets in there. I had to be thrice as inventive."

Eleazar smiles a bright, open smile. It's kind of surprising – maybe even a little off-putting. I sink back in my seat, suspicion causing me to hesitate. Eleazar barely knows me. Hell, scratch that – he doesn't know me at all. I'm just some random human that met the wrong end of his friend's Mercedes and ended up causing a whole lotta trouble. Why is he being kind to me? Fuck, why on earth did he volunteer to cross the entire freaking world just to make sure I settled in okay? Nobody does that kind of thing…not without wanting something in return. What does this vampire want from me?

Apparently my acting skills aren't limited to baiting sleazebags, seeing as the next words out of Eleazar's mouth are: "Well, your spirits are up, at least."

I smile with a practiced expression, focusing on keeping my heart steady. "No point in sulking, I guess."

Eleazar nods in agreement, just as a new face strolls into the lobby.

This new vampire is young…ish. Only a few years older than me physically, I reckon. He looks grown-up, but there's a youthfulness to his eyes and expression that make me think he's not as old as he seems.

"Uh, hi," he says, waving with an awkward-looking twitch of his hand as he approaches the desk at human speed. This hits me up wrong, and I frown.

"Ronnie, this is Santiago," Eleazar says, making the necessary introductions.

Oh, right. The computer guy. I scrutinize him carefully as he leans one arm on the countertop in front of my desk. The movement looks awkward, just like his wave, and I can't figure out what his game is. He's tall, but not very well-muscled. He must have some sort of wicked supernatural talent, because I doubt very much he's a fighter. He's wearing a uniform – sort of. There's a cloak billowing around him, the hood skewed haphazardly around his shoulders, and a Volturi crest necklace swinging against his chest. However, beneath the cloak he's got a green check shirt and a pair of slacks – not exactly what I would have suspected from a Volturi soldier. His hair is shoulder-length, brown-black, and looks like it hasn't seen a comb for the better half of the last century.

I have to force my frown not to sink deeper into a scowl. The more I examine him, the more confused I get – and I hate that. I'm good at reading people. I have to be. Anyone I can't decipher usually sends me skedaddling in the opposite direction, purely out of self-preservation. That isn't an option now, though, and my back straightens so tightly it starts to ache.

Eleazar's brows are tighter now. He's clearly wondering what exactly about this new vampire has spooked me. Santiago himself shifts his weight from one foot to the other, even though he's still leaning on the desk, and it makes my teeth hurt.

My voice works before my brain does. "Why are you doing that?" I demand, frustration bubbling past the common sense that tells me that talking back to my new superiors is more than likely a no-no.

Santiago bristles, alarmed. "Doing what?" He asks.

"Standing like a human," I grit out, sweeping a meaningful glance over his poorly-executed imitation of human posture. "Or… _trying_ to stand like a human."

Santiago straightens up, looking a little self-conscious. This, too, is unexpected, and it only fuels my irritation. Why isn't he asserting his position? Threatening to slit my throat with his fingernail?

"Uh, well, _you're_ human," Santiago replies, darting a wary glance between Eleazar and me. "I…I was trying not to scare you, I guess. By moving too suddenly or anything."

I raise one brow, serious non-amusement caked all over my face. Eleazar cuts in before I can overstep my mouth again. "Santiago," he says, trying to hide a smile. "She's probably spent less time around humans than you have in the past few years."

Santiago has the decency to look embarrassed. "Right. Uh. Sorry," he mumbles. I sigh deeply, sending my most vicious, hateful vibes towards the skies at whatever Deity is currently having a LOL at my expense.

I hate everything.

vVv

Eleazar leaves so Santiago can learn me up on this horrendous lump of technology. He shuffles in behind my desk, keeping a decent distance between us, ready to impart some wisdom.

He _so_ has no idea what he's in for.

After a solid twenty minutes of repeatedly attempting to teach me which button does what, Santiago looks crestfallen. Clearly, he's taking my lack of progress personally. I dither over whether or not I should explain to him that I'm pretty much just an idiot before deciding to let him suffer. Hell, I've gotta get my kicks _somewhere_.

"When was the last time you used a computer?" Santiago asks weakly. He's hunched over as if he's in physical pain, his thick, dark eyebrows knitted upwards in silent anguish.

I discipline myself against rolling my eyes. Or smacking my forehead against the keyboard. "I dunno," I reply. "Third grade, I think." I remember doing some weird spelling games (which I sucked at) on big, blocky machines with the other kids. It wasn't the most riveting activity of all time, which might explain my lack of interest in what is clearly Santiago's passion.

Santiago gapes at me as if he can't believe what he's hearing. I inch away, my face creased in response to his bugging eyes.

"You're a twenty-first-century teenage girl," he moans. "How is that even _possible_?"

I shrug, not caring enough to concentrate. My head is starting to hurt again. A dizzy, lightheaded kind of hurt. Staring at a bright screen isn't helping. At least when I'm sitting down, I can ignore how weak I feel. It's been _days_ …

"I mean, what did you even _do_?" Santiago rants dramatically, seemingly wounded on my behalf.

"I dunno," I repeat, trying to distract myself from the low ringing in my ears. "I slept. Hunted. Watched TV. Played games."

"Video games?" There's actually hope in his voice. I'm finding it hard to believe that this guy is even a vampire, let alone a Volturi guard.

"No," I answer, deciding to savour the moment where I crush his hopes. "Card games. I liked Poker and War. Michael liked Bullshit. Jesse liked Snap because it made me jumpy. Anton taught me Chess. I never won. Not one single game. But I loved it…"

I trail off when I feel my voice thicken. It's silent for several long seconds before Santiago murmurs an apology.

"That was insensitive of me," he says quietly.

"Whatever," I mutter, trying to fight off the weighted feeling in my limbs. "What does this button do?"

"Uh, that turns the computer off."

"Great," I say, full of sarcastic enthusiasm. "Let's do that."

I push the button. Nothing happens. Frowning, I do it again. And again. Just as my temper is really beginning to itch, Santiago clears his throat – another human action.

"Er, you have to hold it down, for a few seconds," he says, reaching past me to do just that. I exhale deeply as the screen fades to black, a hundred thousand percent done with this day. I want a drink and a needle and a cool bed. Last night I was far too hot. I tossed and turned and woke up over a dozen times, not used to the heat – or the loneliness.

The overwhelming grief lunges over me again. I hunch up in my chair, feeling small. I don't have time to feel that way for long, though, because two dark-clad figured materialize without warning in the middle of the lobby.

My heart crashes into my stomach when Felix and Demetri pause mid-conversation to glance in my direction.

"Hey, guys," Santiago says offhandedly. "Where are you two off to?"

I stop breathing when they appear right in front of my desk. Clearly, _they_ don't care about frightening me with their speed. My headache kicks things up a notch in response to the dark fear clenching my stomach tight. Of all the people I _didn't_ need to see today.

"Just a quick trip to France," Demetri replies casually. "We're looking into the issue with the club. I just have to track down the informer – get some more details. Shouldn't take long."

"We'll be back by morning," Felix adds. A dark smirk curls his mouth upwards. "Tell Heidi to save us some live ones."

"You might beat her home. She hasn't left yet," Santiago chuckles amiably.

I'm not concentrating. My mind is whirring, thinking back.

" _Demetri will find them."_

" _He won't. They'll run."_

" _No one can outrun Demetri."_

I stare up at the vampire who, not twenty-four hours previous, had his hand around my throat, a hair away from exterminating me.

He's a tracker – the best in the world. He's the one who's going to bring my coven to so-called justice. Jesse can track, too, but not on that level. Heidi's right – they can't evade him.

Not without my help.

I stay silent as the three Volturi exchange conversation. Fuck me. How has this not occurred to me _before_? From what I've learned, every gift has its kink, no matter how small. Demetri's must, too. No matter how good a tracker he is, he can't be _unstoppable_. He's got to have _some_ weakness. If I can find out what it is, maybe I can throw him off-course. Maybe I could even find a way to warn my coven personally…

I stop my thought in its tracks before my accelerating heartbeat can give me away. I _need_ to find out about Demetri's power. I can't outright ask about it – that would be far too suspicious. But how else am I going to do it?

My lips quirk upwards when the answer comes to me.

I'm going to be the most fucking pleasant-ass secretary they ever fucking had.

"When we get back," Felix says. "We'll relay the details of our trip to you, so you can record it."

Thankfully, I realize he's speaking to me. I grin (not too brightly – after all, I'm still supposed to be new and scared and homesick…not that I'm not) and nod. I lean forward, folding my arms on the desk and resting my chest just on top of them.

"Can do," I reply, looking Felix straight in the eye.

Demetri's brow rises, and he exchanges quick glances with Felix and Santiago. "You're awfully chipper today," he says to me, looking me up and down. My shoulders bob.

"Pouting's not going to get me anywhere, is it?" I counter.

Just like Eleazar, this kind of answer pleases them.

"That's the spirit," Felix smirks, leaning his elbow on the countertop. Unlike Santiago earlier, his attempt at nonchalance is a lot more practiced and natural. He winks at me.

Relief unknots my stomach. _This_ is the kind of game I can play.

I raise one brow and mirror his smirk, watching his eyes flicker over me. Demetri grips his forearm and tugs it off the counter just as Felix notices my artfully displayed cleavage.

"For God's sake, let's go," he sighs, hauling Felix away. Beside me, Santiago shakes his head as the pair of them disappear.

"Don't pay him any mind," he says, edging around my desk again – more speedily this time. He watches the spot where they exited, a fond but scathing smile on his face.

I'm distracted from my mini-victory by a vengeful throb behind my eyes. My head falls forward and I catch it in my hand, palming automatically at my forehead.

"He always does shit like that. He's harmless re…are you okay?"

I can't look up at him. My eyes are closed, but the blackness is still managing to swim and squirm before me.

"Headache," I grind out. My body feels so heavy it's almost numb.

"Oh. Don't you have any pills?"

The word sends every nerve in my body flaring up in response. "Pills?" I echo weakly. No, I don't. Everything's at home – my sleeping pills, my E. Fuck, what I wouldn't kill for-

"You know – aspirin, isn't it? For headaches?"

Oh. That. "No," I mutter. "No pills."

I finally manage to crack my eyes open, only to be met with Santiago's face, creased with concern.

 _Aw, sweet_ , I think cynically.

"It'll clear up," I tell him, forcing my hand into my lap. A fresh ripple of pain echoes the movement and I have to fight not to wince. "Really, man. It's all good."

"If you say so." I must look like a real bag of dicks, because Santiago still appears doubtful. "Maybe we'd better wait until tomorrow for another lesson."

"Huh? Oh, sure. Whatever."

"We have one of those water-fountain things in the human bathroom," Santiago gestures towards a door that, before, I'd assumed was a broom closet or something. "I'd get some if I were you."

"Sure," I repeat.

With one last glance back at my face, Santiago vanishes, giving me the space I need to curl up and whimper in private.

vVv

My headache does recede, after a while. When I'm positive that my legs aren't going to turn to useless jello beneath me, I risk clambering out of my chair and clacking my way to the bathroom in search of a drink of water and a mirror to cringe at.

I find both. The water really does help, even though bending over the fountain is a bit of a chore and it does fuck up my lipstick a little. When I face the mirror, I feel a little rush of relief. I was expecting to see a complete horror-show with the way Santiago reacted. In reality, the only evidence that I'm suffering is the fact that my face is deathly pale and pasty. I dab at my skin with some paper towels, examining the dark circles under my eyes. I frown, vowing to rummage for concealer in the infinite armory of makeup back in my apartment.

A shrill ringing noise drags me back to reality. The phone. Swearing darkly, I chuck the paper towels into the garbage can under the sink and dart back into the lobby where, by my desk, I've got more company.

Deciding to deal with the louder problem first, I ignore the vampire as I scoot around my desk and snatch up the phone.

"Yeah?" I breathe into the receiver. The vampire's brows perk at my lack of professionalism. An Italian voice bleats foreign words into my ear.

"I don't speak Italian," I interrupt dully, eyeing up Jane's pretty brother over the front of my desk, suspicious as to why he's loitering here.

" _Un attimo,_ " the voice says. There's a beat of silence, a click, and then: " _Would you be interested in buying Toner?_ "

My eyes slit briefly before I cover the mouthpiece with my finger. "Do we need Toner?" I ask the vampire, unable to keep the point-blank unimpressed snark out of my tone.

He shakes his head, brows still high. "No."

"No," I parrot bleakly, this time speaking to telemarketer numero three.

"Are you sure-?"

"Yeah, bye." I hang up, sighing deeply.

"You're not very good at answering the phone," the vampire states. I cut my dreary eyes up to him, silently praying for an extra bout of patience. Or a noose.

"Yeah, whatever. Tell me that again when there's someone worth speaking to on the other end." This earns me a minute smile. My soul might be on the precipice of total death, but my hormones aren't. I almost – _almost_ – manage to crack a smile in return. "What do you want?"

"Come with me," he orders.

"No," I scoff thoughtlessly.

The tiny, amused smile vanishes, replaced by a slight frown. "I'm Alec," he says.

"Cool."

His frown deepens. "Don't you know who I am?"

The words _Witch Twin_ spring to mind, but something in the back of my mind tells me not to allow them past my lips.

"I've heard the stories," I reply, more careful this time.

He's almost scowling now. I frown back at him, trying to unravel the reason for his mood. What, is he pouting because his awe-inspiring power isn't striking the fear of God in me? It would, I think, on a normal day. If I were here with Anton and Pete and Michael and Jesse, I'd be hanging back behind them. But I'm not – I'm alone – and I'm far too tired and sad and too in pain to care much about what this guy might do to me.

"And you…don't…care?"

This seems to perplex him. Maybe he's even a little angry. My headache is rearing its head again, making it hard to think straight. "I probably should, shouldn't I?" I sigh. I've heard of the things he's done. Jesse told me that Alec's power was the single reason the Volturi were able to tear down the vampire empire that existed before them. If he can dismember entire empires, I don't want to imagine what he could do to one meagre, sass-mouthed human. I can't help my boys if I'm dead.

"Why are you here?" I ask again, weary in the extreme.

"I was told to bring you to the library," he finally explains.

"Oh," I reply. I can't even be curious. I'm too wrecked. "Right. Lead the way, I guess."

Alec gestures with his arm, and I circle my desk again, tailing him down the same hallway that Renata brought me down earlier.

"How did you manage to get captured by the Cullens?" Alec asks out of the blue.

I don't want to answer. I don't want to make stupid small talk – but this guy _is_ powerful and, I'm guessing, influential. I might need him on my side.

"Carlisle hit me with his car," I answer, unable to put any real feeling to the words, even with the reminder of the ache in my shoulder.

"Really?" Alec snorts, amused.

I fume at the idea that he finds the moment that my world crumbled around me fit to be laughed at.

"Yes, _really_ ," I snap. "It fucking hurt, too, I'll have you know."

Alec's smile is slightly broader than before. "And, what, Carlisle was so pissed that you mussed his fancy paint-job that he tossed you into the back seat and took off?" He's shaking his head. "That doesn't sound very much like him."

"Fuck you," I seethe, momentarily forgetting my plan to have Alec on my side. My heels stab into the stone floor, echoing around me to the beat of the pulse in my head.

Thankfully, he's too entertained by the tale of my kidnapping to take offense. "No, truly, I'm curious," he says, a smile in his voice. "Please, humour me."

I clench and unclench my fists, silently furious. "It was my fault," I spit. "I was an idiot, again, and this time nobody was able to save me."

I hate remembering it. I've had plenty of nightmare-inducing nights, but this one ranks. Fuck me, I was so stupid. I wasn't terribly hurt – just dazed. But I didn't get up and run. Why didn't I? Why didn't I run? Oh, right. I'd been buzzing with the idea of a new luring possibility, of course. Guilt-trips are always easy takes. But then he'd begged me to let him take me to a hospital, and he'd touched my arm and I'd recognised the temperature and spat out the word _vampire_. We'd both stared at each other, wide-eyed. I inched away, scared because his eyes were black and I knew what that meant. But – no, I wasn't _truly_ scared. I had four, and he was alone. But they didn't come. Why didn't they? He was too fast for me. I was buckled into the car before I got ten feet from him. The scream stayed stuck, useless in my throat. It's always been the same – I'm never able to scream when I'm really afraid. I don't remember if I cried. I know I scrabbled at the door, clung to it the entire way, but he'd had it locked up tight. Never even needed to stop for gas. The drive was agonising, and _endless_. I found out later that he'd been out of town at some kind of medical conference. I spent hours locked in that car, scared out of my mind, with Carlisle continuously apologising and promising that he wouldn't hurt me. When we finally arrived at that big white house, Esme and Alice had been waiting outside – waiting for _me_. Every light in the house had been blaring bright.

To my surprise – and relief – Alec doesn't press the subject. We walk in silence for a while, then I take my turn to ask a question.

"Why did Aro keep me alive?"

Alec pauses. When I peer up at his lovely face, he seems hesitant.

"I'm not sure," he answers after a moment. I skewer him with my best _go-fuck-yourself_ look, and he shakes his head. "Honestly, he didn't say. Perhaps my sister knows. He did consult her on it."

I remember. Jane and the other woman followed Aro outside for a casual chitchat about the fate of my neck.

"We did have a position to fill," Alec adds. "Perhaps he thought…well, two birds, I suppose."

"Thrilling," I mutter darkly.

"Indeed," Alec replies, blatantly ignoring my biting sarcasm.

We come to yet another large set of double doors. These ones are taller than the ones to the great hall, and look equally as impossible to budge. Lucky for me – because I'm so chock full of _that_ these days – Alec reaches for them. Then, he hesitates.

He turns to me with a strange, frustratingly unreadable look on his face. "Behave," he tells me.

His tone is mocking. I decide to push my luck, thanking him with a one-fingered salute. He grins, amused again.

"It's your neck," he shrugs.

At this point, I really don't care.

Dull, heavy pain weighs my bones down as I trudge in behind my escort. The library is several storeys tall, every surface, both vertical and horizontal, covered with books – ancient volumes, slim paperbacks, old books, new books, handwritten books, printed books…maybe if I had any interest in reading, I'd be a little more awestruck. My only real thought towards the impressive display is that it looks pretty trippy.

Alec weaves through countless bookshelves until we reach the open centre of the room – a big circular area littered with chairs, benches, and one large round table right in the middle. At this table are Aro and Caius, waiting for us.

Oh, absolute fucking fuck.

Aro greets us both with a bright smile, showing his predator teeth. Caius glances up, nods at Alec, spears me with a withering stare, then returns his attention to whatever crap he's organising on the table.

"Good boy, Alec," Aro praises. Alec moves forward, and Aro reaches to clasp his hand. After a few moments, he nods, his smile bigger than before. "Off you go, then, dear," he says, waving Alec away.

"Master," he says, bending forward at the waist in a brief bow, like Heidi did. When he rises, he nods once in my direction, then vanishes, leaving me with two of my Masters. One of which, I'm fairly certain, would be quite happy to drop-kick me off the top of the building. How comforting.

"Now, Veronica," Aro begins, getting down to business. "The little matter of your education…"

Oh… _oh_ no. No. This can't be. I eye Caius with wide, wild eyes, panicking. He continues shuffling papers with clenched hands, no happier about this than me. Oh, God. I can not – _can NOT_ – spend who knows how many hours being screamed at for being stupid by this jackass. My soul will not take it. My brain will melt out my ears. I will absolutely, unquestionably, _die_.

"You are to meet with Caius here, every day at this time," Aro says. "For however long he sees necessary. Clear?"

I meet his enthusiastic eyes with a withering, downhearted stare. "Crystal."

"Excellent!" Aro enthuses, rising fluidly from his seat. "Well, I'll let you two be."

And then he's gone too, leaving me with the one guy in the whole place who definitely wants me six feet under. The room is deathly silent, save for the rhythmic shuffling of papers – which I now suspect is more of a method of anger management than an actual necessary task. After endless unnerving quiet, I clear my throat.

"So," I begin, my fingers trembling at my sides. "What are we gonna be-"

Caius's head snaps up, red eyes beaming with malice. His mouth opens, showing his teeth, and he cuts me off.

"We will not be doing _anything_ ," he hisses. "As long as you appear so… _unkempt_."

Unkempt? What? I scan my front in a quick panic, wondering what on earth about me is making him so mad. My shirt is tucked in, my shoes are unscuffed. What the ever loving fuck is he talking about?

"Your hair," he continues, fuming. "From now on, you are to tie it back. This is a professional place, Veronica. I will not have you showing us up just because you have never discovered the wonders of a comb."

I bristle, stung. My throat runs dry. I _did_ comb my hair. I spent twenty whole minutes this morning wetting it, crushing it through, trying to tame it. I thought I'd succeeded, but apparently fucking not.

"And have you ever _heard_ of an iron?" He snaps, gesturing to my front. I glance down again, frowning. He's not done. "There's a hole in your tights, for God's sake!"

I peer further south. True to his criticism, there's a ladder up the inside of one leg. My heel must have nicked them while I was curled up in my chair, nursing my headache.

"You humans are so expendable," he says, his tone dark and full of meaning. "If you do not return to me tomorrow looking like the professional I expect you to be, we will have to rethink your position here, _Veronica_."

His voice crackles on a low hiss. "You are dismissed," he snaps.

My eyes well with tears, but I blink them back furiously, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Turning on my heel, I stomp out of the library without another word, hating all of them so ferociously that by the time I make it back to the lobby, the sharp twisting in my stomach gets the better of me, and I have to dart into the bathroom to be sick.

vVv

It's dark when I arrive back at my apartment, hot and miserable. I step out of my elevator, beginning to strip immediately. Staring at nothing, I shed my clothes, trembling as I realize just how quiet it is. I shuffle into the bathroom, feeling so heavy I'd believe something was trying to drag me to Hell if I wasn't convinced I'm already there.

I glance into the mirror. I look awful. My face is deathly pale, with a sickly sheen to it. My eyes are hollow and sunken, ringed with circles so dark that I look like I have two black eyes. Shivering, I turn and switch on the shower, turning it as cold as it gets. The water beats down, heavy and ice-cold. I step inside and immediately sink to the floor, curling up under the flow. The temperature is comforting – too comforting. A rough sob sends my body lurching, and then my day finally gets the better of me. Loud, ugly cries echo through the bathroom as I hunch in the shower, pretending that I'm home, in the embrace of familiar cold arms.

vVv

 _Something doesn't feel right, and it's not just because I'm rolling drunk. The three men I snagged are following me down the deserted street under the pretence of a party, walking in a close, tight formation. My fingers start to quiver. There's a sour feeling in my gut. All my better instincts are telling me that there's a reason I only ever take one or two, and that reason is going to become very apparent unless I get them within screaming distance of the house in time._

 _The one that bought me that first drink walks close next to me, breathing warm, horrible, booze-stale breath right down my neck. I manage to stay in character, walking tall and confident – but, inside, my stomach is twisting._

" _Where's this party, exactly?" One of the others slurs, stumbling just behind me. My mouth tastes of metal as I reply with a stiff smile._

" _Not far." My voice is forcibly light. Easygoing. Diffusing. "Just down by the docks. About fifteen minutes."_

" _Hmm," the first one says, beginning to slow. Shit._ Shit _. "Seems an awfully long way to go for a party…"_

 _Oh, fuck. My heart hammers. I try to keep the pace going, but they've all stopped walking. Alarm bells are starting to blare in my head. I lurch dizzily as I pause, turning back to face them. I am so fucking drunk. Trying my best not to let my panic show, I throw them my most sultry smirk, letting my eyelids hang low over my eyes._

" _It'll be worth it…" I purr, glancing up at them through my eyelashes, letting them know_ exactly _what I'm eluding to. I reach up to draw my fingers in an x-formation across the centre of my chest. They track my movements, bloodshot gazes intense. "Promise…"_

 _I've regained their attention, anyway. The three of them smile identical, sloppy, perverse smiles. Heart still skipping, I turn back around, ready to lead the way._

" _Fuck that," one of them growls._

 _I'm yanked backwards by my wrist. I overbalance in my heels, crashing against a warm body. A strong arm pins me against it and I freeze, horrified._

" _I wanna party right here," my captor leers. His cold, clammy hand snakes under my top while I'm still frozen, fumbling fingers creeping upwards._

 _Instinct takes over. Uninhibited by the alcohol, I thrust my elbow backwards as hard as I can. I catch a jaw, sending the man that grabbed me stumbling backwards, releasing me._

 _I don't give them a chance to respond. Kicking my heels off, I sprint._

 _I'm fast, but I'm also drunk and not wearing shoes. It doesn't take long for the thunder of running footsteps to come closer and closer, reaching fingers grabbing at my hair-_

 _I vault sideways, panicking. I dash down the first dark alley I see, hoping to at least hide until they get bored. My mouth tastes like metal and my heart is pounding, hurting. My feet sting and ache. Still, I don't break speed. I run and run until I practically crash into the alley wall. A dead end. My fingers scrabble at it as if I can move it by will alone. It stays resolutely existent, trapping me._

 _A dark chuckle sounds from behind me. Eyes wide, I turn, keeping my back pressed against the wall as the three drunk men prowl closer, breathing hard._

" _You're a sly one," the one I elbowed sneers. "But you're fucked now."_

 _I don't doubt that he means_ exactly _what he says._

 _I try to scream. My mouth pops open and hangs there, but no sound comes out. It's as if my throat is soldered shut. I can barely breathe, let alone yell. The terror is too overwhelming._

" _Fuck you," I choke, bracing myself against the wall. One of them moves closer, grinning with yellow teeth._

" _I will," he murmurs._

 _His fingers ghost against my chin, and then he's gone._

 _He soars backwards, neck snared in a strong white hand. He's hauled down, wrenched up, and there's a hollow crunching sound as his neck snaps._

 _I begin to breathe again._

 _Jesse stands over the body, tall and blonde and glaring, a low snarl rolling through his teeth._

" _What the fu-"_

 _Pete materializes in front of me, shielding me from the sight of the mass slaughter. Not one of them gets a scream out before they're all dead. They fall silently, slumped over on the ground. Jesse scoffs angrily, nudging them over so he can examine their faces._

" _Vermin," he spits._

 _Pete pulls me to him while I shudder, trembling with adrenaline. "What happened?" He murmurs to me, touching my hair._

 _Jesse tosses one of the bodies over his shoulder like a human hefting a gym bag, his mouth curled into a sharp sneer._

" _What do you mean, 'what happened'?" He snaps, gesturing furiously at me, gulping and panting in Pete's protective grasp. "Look at her!_ Smell _it on her! She's completely wasted!"_

 _I return Jesse's disdain with as cold a stare as I can manage before turning a bleary-eyed glance up at Pete, still cradling me close. He's frowning, but not at either of us. After a few beats of silence, save for a siren wailing in the distance, Jesse gives a growling kind of sigh before seizing hold of a second body and tucking it under his arm._

" _She'll be the death of all of us," Jesse says. There's no force, no venom in his voice this time; he's made the same point a thousand times. Giving me one last judgemental once-over, he shakes his head and melts into the shadows._

 _Pete sighs. In the same second that the rough fabric of his denim jacket sinks over my shoulders, he scoops up the last body and deposits it behind the dumpster, out of sight._

" _Let's go sober you up, shall we?"_

 _I nod, shuddering. Pete sweeps me gently off the ground, holding me to his chest as he walks out of the alley._

" _I'm sorry," I burble miserably, nuzzling into his front like a child. He bounces me once in his arms, trying to lift my spirits._

" _It wasn't your fault," he sooths._

 _After all these years, this is still something I have trouble comprehending. "Will Anton be angry?"_

 _Pete doesn't hesitate, but I feel his arms stiffen. "Not with you," he replies. "But let's say that those men are lucky that Jesse and I are the ones that happened along."_

" _I don't think there's anyone in history who's been lucky to meet Jesse."_

 _Pete laughs, bouncing me again. "Come on, let's get some food in you."_

 _But I'm asleep by the time we reach the town again, curled into his chest, safe and protected._


End file.
